Chicago: The decadence of elitist cinema
By Gennady Stolyarov II
web posted February 24, 2003
Seldom a film comes about that not merely exposits but also
patronizes the sensation-grabbing, flesh-lusting, nihilistic
paradigm behind the Oscar nominations, but this time Hollywood
has surpassed the veneer of "artistry" to uncover the brazen
essence of its propagations. Early last week I had given myself
an investigative assignment: to see one of the films in competition
for the Academy Awards (which I, being fairly insulated from the
cultural mainstream, seldom do) and to review it independently,
not reading past evaluations, not filtering the works of others to
form my perception from theirs. My analysis of the film, in its
plot, its imagery, and, especially, the metaphysical portrayal of
the world that it presents, would suggest that "Chicago" is not
worth the seven dollars I had paid to see it, not even to mention
the showering of Oscars it, given knowledge of the dispositions
of selection committees past, is likely to receive.
The plot of the film is so primitive that I likely would have been
able to write a similar scenario at the age of five. Roxie Hart
(Rene Zellweger), a would-be cabaret singer, murders a furniture
salesman posturing as a promotional advertiser, is imprisoned,
and becomes a media celebrity due to the devious manipulations
of public perception performed by Billy Flynn (Richard Gere),
your typical "crooked lawyer" who believes sentimental appeal
to be a sounder strategy than solid empirical, logical
argumentation of one's case. She is acquitted and is released to
star in a duo with another murderess/cabaret signer with whom
she had feuded in prison. There are also several segments of film
displaying Roxie's contemptuous relationship toward her
"average" but honorable husband and the futile efforts of a more
rational prosecutor than Flynn, but altogether the film contains
some fifteen minutes of plot. And fifteen minutes of plot is all that
can possibly be wrung from a story that in its content can be
termed anorexic and still given excessive credit.
What, one will ask, are the remaining two hours of the film
occupied by? Lewd and sensuous, skin-baring dancing
absolutely unrelated to the subject matter of the film as well as its
parent musical. The plot is that of a murder/trial story which has
no inextricable links to cabaret dancing per se. Roxie could have
been an aspiring scientist, businesswoman, architect—some
nobler and more productive profession—and the essence of her
conflict and her dilemma would have remained unchanged. But
why did the producers of the film not consider that possibility?
Because they sought to counterbalance their vapid, uncreative,
and starved plot with some moist, mushy, repulsive and
gratuitous exposition. Why did Roxie's cell mates, when
explaining in song their motives for the murder of their respective
husbands/boyfriends, posture in blatantly suggestive ways? Why
were they dressed in flimsy garments more fit for a hippie nudist
colony than a prison? No reason, of course. There was no logic
behind the visual elements of the film, period. There was but the
populist impulse to attract the same people who would observe
wanton sexual allusions in the so-called "arts" not for the sake of
a deeper revelation of character traits or ideological dispositions,
but for the sake of the obscenities themselves!
However, what is most troubling is the moral message this film
communicates to its observers. Poetic justice is absent as if there
never were poetic justice. The wicked are not punished, the
charlatans not exposed, the power-lusters and attention grabbers
not rebuked. Billy Flynn, who had "never lost a case", adds
Roxie's defense to his winning streak. Roxie, despite the fact that
she managed to dishonestly exonerate herself from being
convicted for a murder she did commit through "sweet girl"
posturing, rises to the peaks of show business popularity. Martin
Harrison (Colm Feore), the district prosecutor devoted to truth
and the law over public perception (which is implicit, although
never overtly stated about his personality. There would have
been a worthy character for the film to dwell on, but he is
afforded no more than two to three minutes of attention) is
framed by Flynn, who fabricates Roxie's diary and places it into
the hands of Harrison's witness to subsequently be exposed for
its evident artificiality.
Amos (John C. Reilly), the husband of Roxie, a man of titanic
devotion to his wife, who lies in order to protect her honor
during the police investigation and who enters debts of several
thousand dollars to pay her lawyer's fees despite knowledge of
her adulterous relationship, who is elated when he hears
(fabricated) news of Roxie's pregnancy and dreams of building a
sound family with her once the trial is concluded, is treated with
half-condescension, half outright contempt by Flynn and is
absolutely shunned by Roxie until her trial date, when they she
embraces him for show value but treats him with aloof disregard
once they meet face to face in the courtroom, post-trial. For all
of his principled fortitudes, Amos is the cleanest and most
appealing character in the film, but he is portrayed as an
unattractive, comical buffoon and is never given the opportunity
to redeem his societally smeared image. No mention is made of
whether or not he had reconciled with Roxie, and an impression
is left of him not as a loyal, moral man but as a scum of what, in
the perception of the Hollywood elites, would be the "lower
classes."
Flynn is portrayed with a magician's elegance and charm, Roxie
with a showgirl's glamour. Yet the producers of this film neglect
in entirety that the emotionalist irrationalities pervading the
dispositions of both of those characters can never, by the very
logical and absolute nature of the laws of the universe and by the
objective nature of the needs of man, succeed in the real world.
The film advises its observers to bow to false idols, populism and
sensuality, while neglecting one's surest guides in life, Reason and
Morality, or their aggregate, Rational Egoism. Harrison is a
rational egoist in the sense that he advocates objective law, a
necessity for a tranquil society for every man, but in the film he is
defeated. Amos is a rational egoist in the sense that he believes
romantic love to be attainable and seeks to achieve concrete
gains from his relationship with Roxie, a family, an established
household, as well as the emotional and intellectual endowments
of his wife. Yet in the film he obtains none of his aspired for
goals, even though men who but subconsciously strive for such
basic aims as home and family usually obtain them in reality.
In all, this film is an absolute inversion of commonsense absolutist
metaphysics, but it is an insight into the metaphysical value-
judgments of its producers and the horde of critics showering it
with acclaim. Philosopher Ayn Rand had revealed evil to be
impotent and miserable, not on coequal terms with good, but
rather a swarm of pests harassing the Atlases of this world. Yet
this film portrays evil as omnipotent and ever triumphant over the
waning seedlings of good still embedded in society. Of course,
that is a theme revealed only "on the sidelines", not in the
masterful sense (although still deserving criticism) of talented
writers like Leo Tolstoy, William Golding, or Daniel Quinn. Most
of the film expresses nothing of contemplative value whatsoever,
just haphazardly orchestrated orgies of flesh piled atop each
other. I suppose that is an insight into another metaphysical
value-judgment of the producers, the presumption that the
universe is an indeterminate flux of random moments and
unsubstantiated gestures, the raw Deweyite empiricist mindset
that presents a string of images or words, such as "pop, six, uh-
uh, Cicero, Lipschitz", with zero meaning and zero insight (they
happen to be the refrain to a song by the jail inmates, referring to
particular concretes related to their given crimes, even though
these concretes had no connection to the conflict per se).
Numerous great films had emerged onto the screen in 2002,
including the adventurous and intellectually stimulating "Harry
Potter and the Chamber of Secrets", the deeply symbolic "Lord
of the Rings: The Two Towers", and the philosophical
exploration that is "Solaris". But the quantity of their nominations
is scant in comparison to those bestowed by the elites of
Hollywood upon the worthless tripe that is "Chicago", even
though any one of those three films has earned a substantially
higher amount of viewers than this one. This merely further
illustrates the isolation of the cloistered elites of Hollywood from
the world of reality, where the grass roots of common sense can
still make sound judgments in regard to movie selections,
sometimes, at least, when they do not enter marionette mode and
get their strings pulled by legions of leftist critics and celebrities
keeping them mesmerized with meaningless lightning-speed
hodge-podge.
I will not be surprised if this film sweeps the Academy Awards. I
hope, however, that it does not sweep all remaining clarity of
vision from those elements of our society still guided by reason
and individual sovereignty.
G. Stolyarov II is a science fiction novelist, independent
philosophical essayist, writer for Objective Medicine, and
Editor-in-Chief of The Rational Argumentator, a journal for the
advancement of the Western principles of Reason, Rights, and
Progress, at
http://www.geocities.com/rationalargumentator/index.html . He
can be contacted at gennadystolyarovii@yahoo.com.
Enter Stage Right -- http://www.enterstageright.com